


Disquiet

by PiningforPines



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Compliant with Jojo's Canon, Depression, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I hope you do the same, I pictured Legend the whole time, LGBTQ Themes, Legend (Linked Universe)-centric, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Ravio (Legend of Zelda)-centric, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, This IS technically a Linked Universe Fic, This will hurt, for Linked Universe, for the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:00:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29947587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiningforPines/pseuds/PiningforPines
Summary: 'Weakness' couldn’t come close to describing how lowly he was, for falling for this trick again, for acting as nothing more than atool… and for believing, just for a moment, that he could be anything more.He had promised himself that he’d never fall in love again.***Hyrule and Lorule have both been saved. Ravio's heart breaks when he's seperated from the hero, but not long later, Link is back, confessing his mutual feelings. Ofcoursehe agrees to be with the hero... but something is wrong, and Link won't talk to him.Post-'A Link Between Worlds', Pre-'Linked Universe'This piece gets heavy, my friends. Please heed the tags.
Relationships: Link & Ravio (Legend of Zelda), Link/Ravio (Legend of Zelda), ravioli - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	Disquiet

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lighthouse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18792790) by [leo_minor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leo_minor/pseuds/leo_minor). 



> _A hand erupts out of a pile of schoolwork and half-finished oneshots, clawing away with a single, angst-filled oneshot clutched in its fingers._  
>  Me: " _I'm not dead yet!"_
> 
> I wrote the second half of this maybe two months ago, and the other half last night while I was supposed to be sleeping. I hope you like it.
> 
> This work was heavily inspired by Leo_Minor's "[Lighthouse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18792790)", which you should read, especially if you want something much kinder than this depressing thing.
> 
> **WARNINGS: This work contains suicidal ideation and heavy depression. Please use your best judgement, and stay safe <3**

When the Hero of Legend saved two worlds, shattered mirrors of each other, he finally felt like he could rest.

He’d done it. He’d saved countless people, yet again. For a glorious moment, despite all the hardships he’d gone through, _triumph_ flowed through his veins, along with a bone-deep satisfaction.

What a wonderful moment that had been. Hyrule was safe. Lorule, though distanced, was safe as well. Princess Zelda was no longer imprisoned. His loved ones could continue their peaceful lives.

If only that could last.

The problem with times of peace was that he didn’t know what to do with himself. When he was young, barely a teen, he’d apprenticed under his grandfather as a blacksmith, but… that was years ago. He hadn’t worked the forge since the day his grandfather had passed. The townsfolk had barely even _seen_ him since then. Would they even know who he was, the supposed blacksmith they’d been promised so long ago?

He turned on the forge, grasping at the slivers of memory, and fumbled through fanning the flames. There was iron already in the trough, misshapen ore as well as dusty bars. He could start simple, a dagger or knife; he thought of the rings he’d taken off for this process, and the enchantments that riddled them… he wondered if he could do something like that…

He stood there until the sun set, lost in thought, vaguely aware of the fire going out, sizzling into little burning embers, and then cold pieces of coal. He gripped the tongs in his hands, a tool he didn’t even get a chance to use, the crooked, charred metal bruising his gloved hands.

Far after the fire had gone out, he placed the tongs down on the anvil, and stepped away, heading to bed.

He could not be a blacksmith.

His days were a blur. He didn’t know how many had passed since he’d found himself back home. The weakness in his heart, the suffocating weight in his chest, they’d always been there—but now, what else was there to think about? He picked things up, mentally and physically, and put them back down again, unable to bring himself to take that first step.

When he was younger, he used to play several instruments. He thumbed an old ocarina, one he used to lovingly coax cheery tunes out of in the front yard. He placed it back on the shelf, feeling as empty as the instrument’s chamber.

He sorted through a chest of rings, ones he’d gathered throughout several adventures, taking them out one at a time and indulging in the memories they brought him. He only got halfway through when he realized that he’d been sitting there for hours. He wondered what the point of this exercise was.

He took note of the emptying kitchen, remembering how much he used to eat sweets. Even recently, he would have never passed on a sugared roll, or a jelly-filled treat. All the ingredients were right there—he knew the basics, he could make himself _something_ , even if it wasn’t pretty or fully cooked. Or he could go down to the nearby town, just a ten minute walk, and purchase something for himself.

He stayed seated.

His home was empty.

One night, he couldn’t avoid it anymore, and he curled up on the floor of his home, clutching at his hair, the tears leaking out of his eyes, as he finally wallowed in how _alone_ he was. How much he missed _him_. How weak and dependent he was, the great _Hero_ , who couldn’t even live with himself without losing all sense of motivation. Something broke inside him with a snap, and he sobbed without restraint.

He missed Ravio.

He missed the way the smug merchant would bustle around his home, missed how he would offer Link a snack when he could drop in, missed the way he would argue with his stupid bird. He missed coming home and hearing his nickname chirped in a singsong voice, the hooded man dropping everything to greet him. He missed the way the Lorulean would play with the ears of his rabbit hood, rub at his face, hinting at a sweet, impish soul beneath the disguise.

He _hated_ the memories of their parting; Ravio’s confession, finally lowering the mask he’d felt forced to wear. He _hated_ , _hated_ , _hated_ , having to watch the cracks between their worlds close up, melding themselves together, one branch at a time. _Anguish_ wasn’t strong enough of a word. _Fury_ , _rage_ didn’t encompass the emotion he aimed at the gods, at Hylia herself, for making him suffer this _twice_. _Weakness_ couldn’t come close to describing how lowly he was, for falling for this trick again, for acting as nothing more than a _tool…_ and for believing, just for a moment, that he could be anything more.

He had promised himself that he’d never fall in love again.

He didn’t deserve it. Marin had proved that much. All he was capable of was _destroying_. Destroying Ganon. Destroying monsters. Destroying worlds. Destroying loved ones. 

That wound was ripped right open, again, like shoving a razor blade into a badly-healed scar. He whispered apologies to her, over and over, knowing that she couldn’t hear, knowing that she may have never been able to hear him, been able to _exist_ , in the first place. Red hair and hibiscus flowers merged with purple robes and button eyes. This was all he was good for. Apologizing. This was all he could do.

He broke down in front of the princess.

He had sworn, with a passionate determination, that he would never show his weakness in front of her. It was _unthinkable_. It was _humiliating_. But in the middle of the night, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He hadn’t bathed or eaten in days. He had a thick, weighted cloak over his shoulders, and kept the hood over his face, unable to bear the thought of being recognized. He was desperate for something, _anything_ , to ease his pain. And there was no one else he could even hope would understand.

He swept past the guards, just as the clock struck midnight, and ignored their cries of outrage. One grabbed his arm, and he let the hood fall, exposing who he was. He glared pointedly away from them as they let go, falling silent as they recognized the great hero of their land, disheveled and embittered. Without a word, he continued down the hall, his boots clicking against the tiles as he made his way to the princess’s chambers.

She was awake, of course. She never seemed to sleep. In her library, he began to speak, and too late, realized his mistake: his words failed, as they so used to in his youth, and were replaced by uncontrollable, gasping sobs. He shakily raised his hands up to sign to her, something he hadn’t felt the need to do in a long time.

‘ _I’ll do anything._ ’

“Anything...” she echoed, carding a hand through his hair despite how stringy and unkempt it was. “... Are you certain?”

‘ _Please. Please. There has to be a way.’_ His hands were shaking so hard that the signs started to fall apart. ‘ _Please. Please. Please…_ ’ He repeated the word endlessly, even as she took him in her arms, the most affection she’d ever shown him, his hand still signing whilst pressed against their chests.

Zelda had a way.

A secret crack in the walls, deep within the abandoned dungeons. No one came down here. And no one ever noticed on the other side, either, hidden behind a tapestry in the war room of their castle’s reflection. No one noticed, save for the princesses.

A contingency plan. A forbidden method of communication, just in case the unthinkable happened, and either party had nowhere else to turn.

Link barely survived the attack that grabbed hold of his heart. His vision swam, the golden, glowing lines flowing like water. When he regained consciousness, he was in the castle’s infirmary, a somber, worried Zelda at his side, and wearing clean clothes.

He scrambled out of the bed, startling her and the castle’s nurse, as his memory returned to him.

“Link, Link, you need to calm down,” Zelda instructed, grabbing his arms, forcing him down. 

“I have to see him,” he gasped out, frantic. “I have to see him!”

“You _will_!” she snapped, and he continued to struggle for a moment, until the words registered in his head. He stopped, but didn’t relax, ice and fire pulsing through his veins at the thought that his beloved was _so close_ , not letting him rest between either extreme, torturing him with the intensity of his inner turmoil.

“Please, Link, I will take you to him,” she promised solemnly, holding his hands. “But you need to eat something, you need to bathe, you need to _sleep_.” His breath hitched at the heartbreak in her eyes, but he pushed her away. That could take _hours_. He couldn’t wait _hours_.

But Zelda was insistent. “I’m worried about you,” she whispered, and then he felt ashamed, his shoulders slumping. He let her order a servant to prepare him a meal, a big one. He said nothing when she expressed her sympathies, and just did as she commanded.

_He worried her_. His job was to _protect_ her, and she was _taking care_ of him.

What a failure he was.

The thought propelled him forward, a day later. _Failure_. _Failure_. _Failure_. If they could just reunite, if Ravio could know how he felt, _if he could get_ _just some kind of closure_ , maybe he could pick up the scraps of himself and force them together again, into something useful, something worthwhile.

He twisted the bracelet Ravio had given him around his wrist, too desperate to entertain any other outcome.

The princess went forward first, to announce herself. He had hesitantly handed her the bracelet, and in the few minutes that she was gone, a million fears went through his mind: what if she lost it, what if she couldn’t come back, what if the portal closed, _what if he never saw Ravio again, what if he lost them both at once, what if they mistook her for an enemy and they killed her what if Ravio didn’t_ want _to see him what if they decided he wasn’t worth it what if—_

Zelda appeared in front of him again, a beautiful work made of oil paints, and reached a two-dimensional hand towards him. He took it, the world shifting in a familiar way around him, and followed her into the light.

***

That was how the hero and the merchant met each other again.

Hilda had sent a guard to Ravio’s study, urging him to come at once. He scrambled out of his chair, away from the piles of parchment and audit note books and Lorulean tax laws. He didn’t let go of his pen, the feather clutched tightly in his hand, forgotten.

Dear Goddesses, what kind of emergency could be ravaging his land so soon? They had only just started to rebuild, after generations and generations of war. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it. He wouldn’t even have his hero there to help him, to show him what it meant to have courage, to stand up for what was right. He wouldn’t be able to be what their kingdom needed.

He threw the throne room doors open, panic making him push too forcefully, ready to defend his princess at a moment’s notice, even if all he could buy her was a few seconds of time.

And there stood Link.

Ravio froze, meeting the sapphire eyes across the room. The princess of Hyrule, Zelda, stood beside him, looking well but concerned; neither she nor Hilda seemed to be in any kind of danger. The two royals stopped talking as the doors crashed open, turning to him.

But his eyes were only for Link.

This had to be a dream. Any moment now, Sheerow would be pecking at his face, trying to wake him up from a nightmare—for this surely was a nightmare, no good dream could tease him like this, make him believe that his hero, his _love_ , had come back to him, had crossed entire dimensions to see him again.

Link took a single, hesitant step forward, then crossed the room. Both princesses looked away, as if this had nothing to do with them.

Ravio didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand why the gods were so cruel. He didn’t understand why or how their Hylian counterparts could be here. He didn’t understand the look on his hero’s face, the pain, the heartbreak: Link was never so open, never so outwardly disillusioned. He made snappy comments and gruffed out short, well-meaning words and faced trials with silent, steady expressions of determination.

He did not cry.

But when he reached Ravio, his eyes were glassy, as if he was only just barely holding back tears. He carefully, gently took Ravio’s hand, the one that didn’t have the pen in it, giving him plenty of time to back away from the touch.

As if he could ever back away from Link.

His hands were rough and calloused from swordplay, a couple of scars nicking his first two left fingers. His knuckles were adorned with three rings: one for protection, one for speed, one for magical stamina. Ravio knew. He’d asked, ages ago, out of simple curiosity, when they were nothing more than acquaintances.

Link stared at their combined hands, eyes infinitely sad, and Ravio knew that this had to be a nightmare. Nothing but a nightmare could show him his hero so defeated.

“Why are you here?” the merchant asked hollowly. He wished he had his hood, so that he could hide away from this terrible vision, provide himself with a layer of protection between this and himself.

Link took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes still on their hands. “I had to come back and see you,” he confessed, his head dropping forward.

Ravio’s heart broke, _again_.

It had broken the first time when he’d watched Link and Zelda step through that portal, never to return. How ironic that the second time would be when Link _came back_.

He dropped the pen and clasped Link’s hands himself, squeezing them. “What do you mean?” he pleaded, his heart tearing in two, between the terrible, terrible hope that Link was giving him, and the deep grief that the hero displayed. His voice shook.

“I need you,” Link whispered. His voice was rough, as if he could barely stand using it. He didn’t seem to care that they had a royal audience. “I… I'm…” His mouth worked, like he was struggling to confess something.

Ravio didn't breathe. He didn't hope. There was no way his hero was about to say those three words.

“I love you," he said, finally, the words taking all of his strength. “I love you, Ravio. I don't think I could live without you.”

Everything else faded away.

Who _cared_ about the princesses. Who _cared_ about the guards stationed around the room. Who _cared_ what anyone thought, about teary-eyed confessions, public displays, romance between two men.

Link's rings bit into Ravio's hands from how tightly he was holding them, and he relished the pain, realizing that if this was a nightmare, he'd have woken up at the feeling.

It wasn't a dream.

_It wasn't a dream._

_Link came back for him_.

He let go of Link’s hands in favor of his face, _like he always wanted to_ , holding his cheeks gently, wiping away the tears, _the tears that didn’t belong there,_ away with his thumbs. Green eyes met blue, but the gut-wrenching, overwhelming hope twisted into misery. This situation was impossible. They were counterparts from two separate worlds. They couldn’t be together, even if they wanted to.

Ravio said nothing, any happiness he’d felt at seeing his hero again crumbling in his chest. His fingers lifted from Link’s face, just a bit—he needed to let go, he couldn’t indulge in this, it would only hurt them more.

But Link grabbed his wrists and held them there, and his eyes lit up with just a spark of his old fire, the steady, passionate determination that Ravio was used to.

“Come back with me.” 

His voice broke as he pleaded. Ravio’s eyes widened, and his breathing started to quicken. He couldn’t. As much as he wanted to, he _couldn’t_. He had a kingdom to rebuild. He had a princess to advise. He had a _life_ here.

“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice ridden with guilt, and hated himself for the way he made Link’s breath hitch, for the rejection and pain he’d caused in his eyes.

Link tried to speak, but no words came out. The hands wrapped around Ravio’s wrists tightened, then let go—he wanted to grab them again, keep them from leaving him, but Link raised his hands up in a familiar way: a way that Ravio had gotten used to, caused by _something_ in Link that he never quite understood.

‘ _Then I’ll stay with you,_ ’ Link signed with quick, desperate motions. ‘ _I’ll stay here_.’ Ravio took a moment to translate, then slowly started to shake his head. No, no, no, if he had a life in Lorule, then Link _certainly_ had a life in Hyrule. A life where he was cherished as an accomplished hero, with a warm home and a kind princess.

He kept shaking his head, each motion feeling like he was sealing his fate— _their_ fates—each shake shattering Link’s heart, fully visible on his face, further. But he couldn’t say yes. He couldn’t do that to Link.

_‘... Please,_ ’ Link begged silently, ‘ _Please tell me, you feel the same way I do about you._ ’

Ravio’s breath caught. Of _course_ , how could he ever—how could Link ever think that he didn’t feel the same way? When he was so wonderful and brave and kind?

“Link… I love you,” he admitted weakly, pushing Link’s hands down, stopping him from interrupting, “I’ve loved you for—” 

And then the hero, _his_ hero, had kissed him, desperate and so incredibly gentle, his eyes filled with tears when they broke away from each other. They held each other for what could’ve been hours, what could’ve been _days_ , but Ravio never wanted to let go. Screw the world around them, all he wanted was for Link to hold him the way he was holding him right now, tight and passionate and fond.

But the world wouldn’t wait for them, and a small, delicate hand tapped Link’s shoulder, causing him to slowly, unwillingly tear himself away from Ravio.

Zelda stood there, waiting, her eyes infinitely empathetic. She let go of Link and pressed the pads of her fingers together, almost like she was praying. Hilda stood behind her, her expression guarded as usual, but Ravio recognized how her fingers fisted in his dress, how she would look away, her eyebrows tilting worriedly, for just a second. He wondered, distantly, what she thought of him falling in love with another man.

“Hilda and I have spoken,” Zelda told them, as if offering an olive branch, “and we have agreed that, for as much as the two of you would like, you may both cross between our worlds.”

Ravio’s heart might have stopped.

Link tensed in their loose embrace, staring at his princess with a look of reverence. Ravio tried to mouth his gratitude, but she didn’t notice, her gaze firmly on Link’s, as he searched her face for any kind of abjuration. She did not back down. She voiced no caveats. They could visit as they pleased.

Link turned to Ravio and kissed him again, hard, passionate, and Ravio’s heart soared; he scrambled to knot his fingers in Link’s hair, not resisting when he pulled the merchant in close. They could be together. They had Zelda’s blessing.

When they finally found the strength to tear themselves away from each other, they found that the two princesses had left, taking the guards with them.

They sat where they stood, on the cold tile floor, and spoke for hours. Explaining, planning, hoping. Ravio told him the truth: he had wanted to tell Link how he felt, he _so, so_ wanted to, but he was afraid. He was afraid of what the hero would think of him, he was afraid that he would be _disgusted_. Link seemed furious, but not at him—at the _world_. There was no such prejudice in Hyrule, he explained patiently, entwining their fingers together. They would be free to love each other, there.

And Link admitted, at the most vulnerable that Ravio had ever seen him, that he’d had his heart broken before, _harshly_ , in a cruel, apocalyptic way that he still couldn’t put to words. He wanted to tell Ravio about it, but he didn’t know how. This old pain had caused him to believe that he couldn’t love anyone ever again, that a relationship with him would never work.

Ravio had been quick to comfort him, and then to dismiss that belief. Link loved him, and this was going to work. It _could_ , now. They could visit each other, they could spend time together. Some of the pain in Link’s eyes lifted, and he gave Ravio a careful smile.

Ravio had a busy schedule, and he couldn’t bring himself to be open in his own kingdom—but that didn’t matter. They decided: every few days, at least a couple times a week, he would cross over to Hyrule to spend time with the hero. And when it couldn’t be done, Link would visit Ravio, and spend the day with him at the castle. Link was adamant about not disrupting Ravio’s work when he could help it, after Ravio had expressed the accomplishment he felt working for the princess. He appreciated it dearly, how his love put everything for him first. He would work to do the same, though he knew there would be long days with only promises to look forward to in the future.

But not tonight. Tonight, they would not leave each other’s side.

There was one, beautiful, blissful week, where they were so happy it _hurt_. Where Ravio got to see the colorful, bright land of Hyrule again, this time with his hand in Link’s, and was properly shown around the little town Link called home. Where Ravio gave Link a tour of his study in the castle, a whirlwind of excitement as he presented treaties, formal letters of allegiance, new laws that he and Hilda had been carving out. They kissed and laughed and talked of a myriad of things, anything and everything, big and small. The couple of days that Ravio spent alone, he spent them dreaming of when he would see his hero again, making small mistakes in his notes (much to Hilda’s frustration, but even she seemed more affectionate than usual, simply quipping at him for being lovesick). Life was perfect.

After that first week, everything seemed like it would be fine.

But then, Link started slipping.

It started with small things. Link was naturally quiet, and often signed out of convenience more than anything—but later on, in hindsight, Ravio saw how it quickly became a crutch. Link’s voice became a rarer and rarer joy in Ravio’s life. Some days, he’d come to visit, and Link would admit he hadn’t eaten, though it was well into the evening; there were bags under his eyes, showing that he wasn’t sleeping quite right, even though there wasn’t any danger to keep him awake; he’d joke self-deprecatingly that he hadn’t gotten out of bed at all the day before, spinning the subject back into the positive by teasing that Ravio was his self-control.

The signs were all there, and maybe he should have caught it earlier, but he didn’t want to see them. His hero, so strong and brave and determined, was _struggling_ —quietly, so that no one else would notice. Ravio sometimes wondered, later, if the only reason why he’d been privy to the hints was just because Link couldn’t quite hide them from him.

One day, when Hilda could spare him, he went to visit. It wasn’t a surprise of any sort—Link knew he’d be coming. Yet, as he approached the little house he’d once claimed as his own, he was filled with a horrible, horrible dread.

The lights had been off, the house dark even though it was the middle of the day. Ravio turned the knob, wondering if should be worried that the front door was unlocked. Inside, the curtains were drawn, so only the slightest sliver of light made it in. The laundry wasn’t done, the dishes were piling, the food in the cabinets was untouched and gathering dust. He found Link in his bed, like he had never gotten out of it, with a distant look in his eyes.

‘ _I can’t even make myself get up_ ,’ Link had lamented defeatedly, and Ravio didn’t know what to do, he’d never felt so lost in his life. Whenever he’d felt lost before, Link had been the one thing anchoring him in place, treating him like he was _home_. That day, and far into the night, had been spent with Ravio bustling around the home, making Link something to eat, straightening things up, joking as best as he could with the horrible distress making its way into his heart. What else could he do?

The next day, after a particularly sleepless night, they lay in bed together, and Link gave him a smile. “You make my whole world better,” he’d sighed, kissing Ravio’s nose, and the hero had felt strong enough to get up, get dressed, make them breakfast. He waved Ravio good-bye with a bright grin, making him promise to return soon, and Ravio lied to himself that maybe Link was getting better.

Of course, it wasn’t that simple. 

Ravio tried to talk to Link, but he wouldn’t answer. He’d just laugh it off and change the subject, and Ravio couldn’t bring himself to bring down Link’s spirits when his joy was becoming so uncommon. A few times more, he stumbled onto Link broken, unable to face Ravio, barely able to speak. It was happening more often… Ravio had to do something, _anything_ , to help him, and sought counsel from someone else, someone wiser than he was.

Something had happened to Link, Zelda explained in a quiet moment, one of the few times the merchant and the princess were alone together. Ravio had sought out the princess to get any kind of knowledge that might help his hero’s plight. Link had gone on a voyage out to sea, Ravio had learned, and he’d come back _changed_. There was obviously something wrong, and Zelda wanted to help—but then, the cracks between Hyrule and Lorule had started to appear, and Link had taken this on without giving himself rest, seeming to feel some kind of responsibility. And it hadn't been easy for him, not by a long shot: Ravio knew firsthand how cruel and unforgiving Lorule was. Pain, inflicted on top of pain, inflicted on top of pain.

There were nights where Link could do nothing but sob raggedly, Ravio holding him in a way that made it feel like if he let go, Link would fall into pieces. There were days where the hero pretended nothing was wrong, but his eyes would glaze over as Ravio spoke, far away from their conversation and startling when Ravio got his attention. Link insisted nothing was wrong. No monsters to fight, no villains to hurt them. Life was the most peaceful it had even been for him. Ravio didn’t know how to argue.

The moment he’d been dreading came a couple months after they’d reunited. He’d arrived in Hyrule to find Link the most distanced he’d ever been, and pleaded with the hero to talk to him.

They were curled up in bed, Ravio holding Link so tight that it might’ve been suffocating if it were anyone else, when Link said the thing that broke him.

“... I want to die,” he whispered, his voice rough from disuse.

Ravio’s breath hitched. _No, no, no no no_. He pulled Link in closer, digging his face into the other’s shoulder. _No, no, no, Mr. Hero, you can’t say that. Please don’t say that._ In this position, Link faced away from him, and Ravio so desperately wanted him to turn around, so he could grab his face and look into his eyes and _beg_ him to stop—but, he also knew that that would be selfish, that this might be the only way Link could confess such things, unable to meet his eyes, as the light of dusk filtered through the curtains.

“I probably would’ve done it by now,” Link continued, with a horrible mix of self-loathing and nonchalance, “if it weren’t for you.” His fingers, calloused and scarred, scrambled to find Ravio’s delicate ones. Ravio clutched them, probably squeezing too hard, afraid that if he let go, Link might disappear. “Ages ago, really. You’re the only thing… I keep picturing your face. I can’t do that to you. It’s the one thing keeping me from ending it.”

Ravio so desperately wanted to speak, wanted to call Link’s name, tell him _don’t feel that way_ , tell him _stop talking like this_ , but he didn’t trust himself. He was afraid, if he interrupted now, after hearing Link’s voice for the first time in weeks, that the hero would clam up again. Part of him did it for selfishness, desperate to hear his love’s voice, but he knew Link needed to get this out, to communicate exactly what was going through his mind.

“And it would be so easy, too.” Link laughed bitterly, almost silently. “Do you know how many swords I have? How many cursed objects that I just need to endure for a bit? I live by _cliffs_ , for Hylia’s sake.”

_Please, please, stop. Please stop. Please, please, please…_

“But I’m too afraid to do it. I’m afraid of what you’ll find.” Link let out the smallest sob, the only clue that he was crying. “I’m afraid I’ll cause even more pain dead than living. Isn’t that messed up? I’m already such a burden, but if I try to take matters into my own hands, it would only make things worse.”

“ _Stop,_ ” Ravio finally begged, his voice thick with tears. “Link, please…” Call him selfish, call him weak, he couldn’t _bear_ anymore.

“Ravi…” Link struggled out of his arms, and for a moment Ravio was full of blinding panic, but then Link was there again, holding his face, wiping away the tears Ravio didn’t know he’d been crying. “Ravi, Ravi…” he soothed, looking stricken, like he hadn't realized how much the words would affect his lover. “I’m so sorry, Ravi… I’m so, _so_ sorry…”

“Please,” he hiccuped, clawing at Link’s hands on his face, struggling to speak through the sobs. “Please don’t _say_ things like that. Please, I need you here. _No—_ forget what I want. You deserve the world. You deserve _everything_. You n-need to believe that.” He closed his eyes, unable to stare at the heartbreak on Link’s face any longer. “You’re n-not a b-burden! You’ll _never_ b-be a burden…”

He wanted to say more, but the sobbing took him over, leaving him floundering for air. Link continued to soothe him, and it was _wrong_ , _he_ should be the one soothing _Link_ , but he didn’t know what else to do, he’d tried everything, _everything_ , and Link only felt worse…

“Goddesses, Ravi, I’m so sorry… All I do is hurt you—”

“ _No!_ ”

He cut Link off harshly, not caring anymore about tiptoeing around the matter. He was desperate. _Desperate_. He’d face Yuga himself armed with nothing but his will, if it meant Link would get better.

“You _don’t hurt me_. You don’t hurt _anyone_. I just want you to b-be _happy_.” Link looked like he would disagree, but Ravio didn’t let him. “You saved your world _and_ mine and I don’t know how many others. You’re brave and smart and have a heart so big it _hurts_. You’re a _hero_.” His voice, which he’d been raising, quieted. “You’re _my_ hero. That’s not some shallow title made to make you feel good about yourself. It means you’re incredible. You’re everything I want to be.”

That was all he could manage before the sobs racked him again. Link held him close, so _so_ close, and he never wanted him to let go. This couldn’t end soon. He wouldn’t _let_ it end.

Slowly, he took steps to help Link heal.

It was horribly, painfully slow, but it was happening. Ravio spoke with the Princess of Hyrule on a day he felt like he could leave Link’s side, whispering guiltily, repeating some of the things Link had told him. It felt wrong to betray such hidden thoughts, but Zelda solemnly promised to help in any way she could. It was with her insistence that they’d managed to move to the castle.

“A change of scenery,” Ravio pretended, as they walked through the halls. “Just for now.”

Link didn’t look convinced, but it didn’t matter. Ravio could sleep better at night knowing there were guards just outside their room, sworn to keep the inhabitants safe.

He spoke to Hilda, explaining that his advising duties had to take a backseat, and that there were pressing matters he was attending to in Zelda’s kingdom. She seemed annoyed, and tried to argue with him, but he stood firm. She needn’t know the details; Zelda’s permission was all the proof he had to provide.

Link cornered him one day, in the sunny courtyard, where their voices didn’t echo and only a couple guards were stationed nearby.

“You’re treating me like a child!” he snarled with a ferociousness Ravio hadn’t seen in months. “Like I can’t take care of myself!”

“What are you talking—”

“Don’t pretend I can’t see what you’re doing!” He got close to Ravio, too close, in a way that should’ve made him feel flattered but only made him feel fear. “The castle, the guards! You even took a leave of absence! You can’t keep me trapped here!”

Link shoved Ravio away—not too hard, but on the inside, it was _painful_ —and took off back towards the castle interior. Ravio felt a flash of anger, of disbelief, and in that moment, he lashed out, maybe for the better, maybe for the worse.

“If you’d just admit to yourself that you’re _sick_ , that you _need_ all of this, then maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess!” Ravio shouted after him savagely, his hands in tight fists. Link spun around with a look of outrage.

“How _dare—_ ” Link cut himself off, breathing deeply, his eyes sparking with a fury Ravio had rarely ever seen and had _certainly_ never been the target of, and he remembered suddenly that Link had slain countless evils in his short life.

“Take off your hood,” Link ordered with a deadly calm. Ravio reached up and grabbed the edges of the rabbit hood, holding it firmly in place, filled to the brim with spite.

“No.”

“Take it _off!_ ” Link roared, and he wasn’t prepared for the way Link lunged at him, grabbing him by the robes, trying to yank the stupid hood over his head. Ravio held tight to the fabric, more out of blind fear than anything, as he stumbled backwards into a tree.

Suddenly Link let go, jerking back as if electrocuted. Ravio realized his eyes were scrunched closed; he struggled to calm his breathing, his hands massaging his throat, where his collar had choked him. His eyes swam with tears, which could’ve been from physical pain or emotional, he didn’t know.

He managed to blink them open, and saw what had made Link stop: the two guards that stood by the entrance to the garden had jumped into action, pointing their spears at the angry hero, obviously fearful but not backing down.

Link laughed, a bitter, angry sound that was so unlike himself. “So that’s what it is, isn’t it?” he sneered at the guards. “You’re not _protecting_ me, you’re protecting everyone else _from_ me, huh? The mad hero!” Link threw his hands up in the air with a sarcastic grin—Ravio’s stomach rolled, the look was so foreign on Link’s face—and then dropped the act, scowling at them all again. “Fine. Fine!” He looked between the guards, and then at Ravio, before turning back to the entrance. 

The guards, seeing that he was no longer on the attack, lowered their weapons as he passed. Ravio watched him go callously, sure that the right thing to do would be to follow Link, make sure he didn’t do anything rash—but there was a vicious hurt in his heart, and he said _no,_ let Link do whatever impulsive thing he was going to do. Ravio didn’t care.

(He ignored the small voice in his head that argued otherwise.)

Hours later, after the sun had set—the _sun_ , a concept Ravio was starting to get used to, but still marveled at—he stood in their chambers, facing a mirror. His robes were off, leaving him in just a thin tunic, a sight that made him uncomfortable in its vulnerability. He traced the marks his tightened collar had left on his throat, red lines gradually fading. It hadn’t been that harsh, it had been by no means life-threatening, but it still left him reeling. _Link_ had done this to him. He didn’t know Link was _capable_ of such a thing.

Were Ravio’s precautions making him worse? He just wanted to be sure Link was safe. They weren’t truly trapped here—Link could leave whenever he wanted! Ravio had just wanted a few eyes on the hero, making sure he didn’t act on his thoughts, making sure he wasn’t stewing in his ruminations for too long. But had all he accomplished was pushing Link away?

A hand scrabbled at the door to their chambers, leading Ravio to pull the cloth back over the marks and look over. Who was it, if not Link, who dared enter their room without knocking first? And why were they having so much trouble with the handle?

He steeled himself, imagining all sorts of attackers, when the door finally flew open. Link hung off it, as if surprised it had opened to him, clutching the handle in shock.

“Link,” Ravio greeted quietly, unsure whether or not the hero was still mad at him.

“Ravio!” Link looked up at him, almost startled, and righted himself. “Ravio, you’re here!”

There was something wrong with the way Link spoke, the way he was holding himself. “Yes, I’m here…?” he echoed, his tone making it sound more like a question.

Link stumbled over and threw his arms around Ravio. The merchant froze, still poised for an attack, as Link put some of his weight on him.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” The smell of booze, sharp and sweet, hung over Link like a cloud.

_Ahhh_. Now, he understood.

“Link, you’re _drunk_ ,” he stated in a hushed voice. Had he ever seen Link drunk? Maybe a bit loose, once or twice, after a couple mugs of beer, but never _drunk_ , and _certainly_ not like this.

“Just a bit, just a bit.” Now he recognized the slurring of Link’s words for what they were. “Just a bit,” Link repeated again, pushing himself upright—making Ravio stagger, but Link held on, keeping them both standing. “Ha, ha… sorry.”

Ravio tried to piece together the situation. Had Link really gone and drunk himself stupid after their argument? _How_? “Where were you?” he asked carefully, watching the way Link smiled sheepishly.

“Around,” Link answered with a dismissing wave of his hand. The other hand was still tight on Ravio’s shoulder.

“What, the Castle Town tavern?” he pressed, amazed that _this_ was the thing that had pushed Link to leave the castle on his own. Link shrugged meekly.

“Maybe.” But it was obvious that the hero didn’t want to talk about this. His fierce blue eyes met Ravio’s, and Ravio was startled at the determination that had taken him over, like he was a puzzle to be solved.

“Ravi…” He stepped closer to the merchant, and out of surprise more than anything, Ravio took a step back. Those purposeful, calculating blue eyes swept over him, _all_ over him, in a way that made the merchant blush. “Goddesses, you’re gorgeous. Beautiful. Look at you—”

But then Link’s breath hitched, and Ravio stood still as a plank as Link grabbed a fistful of his tunic, pulling it to the side, so that the marks from earlier were fully visible. He saw Link’s face change, like his heart was breaking right in front of Ravio’s eyes.

“Ravi, Ravi, Ravi,” he whispered, a gentle thumb tracing over the injury. Ravio couldn’t help himself: he felt safe, regardless of Link’s encumbrance, and let his body relax.

“Oh, Ravi, I’m so sorry. I did this to you,” Link apologized emotionally, and peppered his neck with kisses. It was so soft, so sweet, and Ravio raised his hands up around Link’s shoulders, sighing.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, pleased to be back in Link’s arms—but Link shook his head.

“It’s not alright, I _hurt_ you—” Link suddenly let go, leaving Ravio feeling cold, and backed up clumsily. His hands raised to his face, covering it, clutching at his hair. “Oh, Hylia, that’s all I ever do, all I ever do is hurt you.”

“No, no,” Ravio found himself saying immediately, stepping closer. He knew Link was acting like this because he was intoxicated, but he had an inkling that this was closer to his true feelings than anything else he’d said lately. “No, don’t say that.”

But Link had started to cry, sinking slowly to the wooden floor, still firmly covering his face. “I’m so sorry, Ravi. I’m so sorry…” Link’s voice wavered and failed him.

Ravio knelt down next to him, pulling Link’s clawing hands away from his face, kissing the tears on his cheeks. “Shh, Link, it’s alright, I’m fine. It’s alright.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Link cried himself out, Ravio comforting him with gentle caresses. Then, Link tapped his forearm to get his attention in a way that he’d grown quite used to.

‘ _Why do you stay with me?_ ’ Link signed with difficulty, his hands just as sluggish as his mouth. His eyes were trained on the floorboards.

Ravio stared, stunned that his love would ask such a thing. “Because I love you, Mr. Hero,” he chuckled sadly, affectionately.

‘ _But I’m an asshole._ ’

“No, you’re not—”

Link snapped his fingers, cutting Ravio off. ‘ _I’ve been a jerk to you, I can’t take care of myself, and now I_ physically _hurt you. I don’t do anything but mope. I can’t see any reason why you’d stay with me…_ ’ His hands slowed, still raised, as if there was more he wanted to say, but didn’t have the words for it.

“Link,” Ravio whispered, and, desperate to communicate in a way that made Link comfortable, started to sign back. ‘ _Link—_ ’

Link fiercely shook his head, tapping Ravio’s surprised lips. ‘ _Your voice_ ,’ he insisted with one hand, the other trailing over Ravio’s skin. ‘ _Please_.”’ His hand circled his chest, near to his heart, the desperation tangible in the motion.

Ravio sighed, pressing his forehead to Link’s, ignoring the smell of alcohol on his breath, searching for the right words. “... Link, listen to me,” he whispered, praying his words would make it through this time, “I know you’re drunk, and you might not remember this, but… what I said before is true. You’re _sick_.”

Link flinched and tapped on Ravio’s arm again, but he ignored it. “No, _listen_ , I mean it.” The tapping stopped. “You’re ill, and I want you to get better. I know this isn’t really you. I _met_ the real you, I fell in _love_ with the real you.”

But Link was drawing away, shaking his head painfully. 

“What if…” and his voice broke again, and Link grimaced with pain. ‘ _What if this is who I am now?_ ’

“I still love you,” Ravio murmured, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. “And, for the record,” he said in a lighter, more playful tone, “I _refuse_ to let the person I love to be anything but happy.”

Link gave him a bittersweet smile. ‘ _I don’t think I know how to be happy anymore._ ’

“Then I’ll teach you again,” he promised, and kissed Link’s forehead. “Don’t worry. We have all the time in the world, and I’ll teach you how to be happy even if it takes forever.”

Link was laughing softly, tears still falling down his face, and in that moment at least, Ravio knew they’d be alright. It would be difficult, but they’d be alright.

When Link woke the next morning, thankfully, he could remember their conversation the night before. It was with shy movements and quick signs that he communicated with Ravio, but the merchant didn’t mind. That day, he promised, would be a day just for Link to relax, to sleep off the headache.

Maybe that argument was necessary, because it had led to them finally talking bluntly. Link lost his voice altogether again, the few days that he’d found it marking on the calendar the point when his frustration had peaked—but Ravio was patient. In the next few months, they made themselves at home in the castle. Ravio managed to feel secure enough to return to Lorule periodically, wrapping up the projects he’d started with Hilda. He pushed Link and himself to make friends with the servants and nobility, to spend time getting to know the princess, to take care of themselves properly. And in return, Link would get Ravio's attention and tell him openly when he was uncomfortable or depressed, let Ravio discuss with him what was on his mind. It made Ravio’s heart sing that Link trusted him so much. 

One day, out at the stables, they were practicing their archery—they were incredibly rusty, having spent so much time indoors and at peace. But for Link, it took mere moments for him to be back up to scratch. He hit his first bullseye, and turned to face Ravio beaming. It was the largest, most carefree smile he’d seen on the hero’s face in months, and it took his breath away.

‘ _Not so bad after all, am I?_ ’ he bragged, a bit clumsily with the bow in his hands—and Ravio jumped into his arms, making him let out a soft “oof!”, laughing all the while.

He was getting better. Things were getting better.

There was a meeting between dignitaries, and both Link and Ravio were invited to attend, Ravio as a diplomat, and Link simply for his status as a hero. It was formal and boring and there wasn’t much to stress about in the current times, but one of the nobles was annoyingly insistent that her county needed more taxes, that local monsters were taking far too much of their crop.

“... Princess,” Link addressed Zelda in a rough whisper, and the whole meeting came to a screeching halt.

It was the first time Link had spoken during any of these affairs—it was the first time in months that he’d spoken, _period_ , Ravio knew, holding his breath. Link himself seemed startled at the sound of his own voice, but he recovered quickly, his fist over his heart as a sign of respect.

“I could help. Send us.”

The two short sentences made Ravio practically keel over with joy. Link was _taking action_ again, doing more than feeling sorry for himself, and he’d said ‘ _us’_ , he’d included _Ravio_ in this request!

Zelda had agreed softly, proudly, and they’d made plans with the noblewoman right then and there. Afterwards, Link had taken Ravio aside, apologizing for his hasty decision and his inclusion of the merchant without his permission—but Ravio didn’t let him, kissing Link until the world was spinning with their lack of air, completely over the moon.

And that was how their new life began.

A year after Link’s journey to save both their worlds ended, they took on this short challenge, clearing monsters from the surrounding forest of a village. Ravio was nowhere as good as Link with weapons, but he knew how to talk to the villagers, and he knew how to get information. _They made quite a team_ , he joked with the hero, and was pleased to see Link roll his eyes and bite his cheek to keep from smiling.

The small mission took them a week or two, and then they traveled back home—but things didn’t stop there. There were countless smaller conflicts across the land, and they took it upon themselves as their duty. So long after moving into the castle, they found themselves selling Link’s old home and buying a new one—somewhere peaceful, more central to the land, with more room for themselves and Ravio’s shop, to boot. It was _thrilling_.

Around a campfire one night, not too long after they’d moved in and decided to set out again, Link confessed to him, “It makes me feel alive.”

He was blushing to the tips of his ears, his voice still quiet but used much more often. Ravio smiled. 

“I could tell. I don’t call you Mr. Hero for nothing.”

“No,” Link disagreed, looking embarrassed, “Not because I’m a hero. Not even because I’m fighting monsters.” He thought for a moment, tapping the stump beneath him thoughtfully. “It gives me a purpose. A _good_ one. I feel like I’m helping make this world a better place.”

And Ravio, curse his heart, felt himself melt at that. His kind hero, with all the trials and suffering he’d gone through, felt most at home doing quiet things that helped strangers. And indeed, they’d done much more than fight monsters—they’d become traveling odd-jobbers, really, just fulfilling people’s requests (and selling them merchandise on the side) for the occasional coin. It was nice, they got to see this beautiful kingdom that Ravio had barely known, and Link… was happy.

“I have you to thank,” Link admitted, bringing Ravio down from the clouds. “I couldn’t have gotten better without you. You…” Link smiled in spite of himself, taking Ravio’s hand. “You mean the _world_ to me, you know.”

And if that didn’t make Ravio soar, he didn’t know what could. He held onto his love tightly, praising the Goddesses above for finally making things right, for finally letting them be at peace.

“And you, to me,” he returned softly. What could he say? Link had stolen his heart long ago.

And now, they were finally happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Hilda is very gay for Zelda. They probably quietly got together behind the scenes of this fic.
> 
> **!!! If you’re suffering, reach out to someone you trust <3 Things _can_ get better. I’m here cheering you on! !!!  
> **  
> 


End file.
